


Good Morning

by Janice_Lester



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Service, Shaving, Slash Goggles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-17
Updated: 2012-10-17
Packaged: 2017-11-27 05:15:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/658381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janice_Lester/pseuds/Janice_Lester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared helps out in the make-up trailer getting Jensen all Dean-ified for the day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Morning

**Author's Note:**

> Jared+Jensen, or Jared/Jensen if you've got your slash goggles on. For the "shaving/depilation" square of my third [](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/profile)[kink_bingo](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/) 2012 card. Also features a healthy dollop of "service". Beta'd by [](http://vee-dub.livejournal.com/profile)[vee_dub](http://vee-dub.livejournal.com/).

 

“Not too close,” Trish says, handing Jared the electric shaver on its tray of goodies as Jensen makes his stumbling way from the trailer door to his makeup chair. “He’s sleep-deprived, coffee-deprived, creature-comfort-deprived Dean today.”

Jared considers his co-star, now sprawled in the chair and visibly having difficulty keeping his eyes open. “Y’know, I don’t think he’s gonna have any difficulty pulling that off this morning.”

“Fuck you,” Jensen mutters, just low enough that Trish and Sarah, the hair stylist, probably don’t hear him. “I had a—” he cracks a huge yawn “—later night than some people. No napping in the trailer while the cameras were rolling for me.”

“No need to pout, Captain Childish.” Jared leans down, admires Jensen in his glasses—how can they look so much like a mean librarian’s and yet magically grant him so much extra sex appeal?—before plucking them off his face and setting them safely down on the counter behind him. “You know there’ll be a Sam-heavy script soon enough to make up for it.” He runs a thumb over Jensen’s jaw, assessing the depth of the stubble. Jensen gives this weird sort of sniff-sigh, lays his head back on the headrest, and closes his eyes.

“You wash your face this morning?”

“Can’ remember,” Jensen slurs. “Prob’ly.”

Jared supposes that’s good enough, and skips to the part with the warm facecloths. Jensen likes that part. Well, he does when he’s awake, anyways. Right now he just mumbles something and shifts sideways enough to make the chair creak.

“Don’t like to rush you, Jared, but you still need that black eye.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He may joke about it sometimes, but he knows this is a privilege. The first time, not so much—they really had to book if they were going to catch the light, eighty-five dozen things had conspired to go wrong all at once, and it was pretty much all hands on deck. With Sam’s makeup being a lot simpler that day, and the set being a couple of stylists short, their girls had turned their attention to the guest star’s gruesome fake injuries and it had only made sense for Jared to use his downtime to get them ahead. He’d shaved and done his own basic makeup the way he was taught long ago—enough that the real professionals could build on it, but nothing that couldn’t easily be undone if he fucked it up—and then he’d done Jensen, too, because fuck it, the man wasn’t as confident as he was that he could get the shave just right on his own. The girls had been happy enough with Jared’s work that he’d asked to help out again the next time everything went to hell. By which time he’d more or less realised that he actually kinda _liked_ getting Jensen ready for his close-up. Especially the shaving part. Getting to do the hands-on thing, with Jensen just sitting there trusting him. Kinda relaxing and faintly awe-inspiring at once. So, yeah, there might have been begging and wheedling and offers of good words being put in with various studio people.

Jensen had been all “hey, man, as long as you don’t cut my throat with that thing, it’s cool. And ya gotta promise me you’re not going start selling any beard trimmings on eBay.”

“Start?” Jared had said, all faux-innocent. “Of course I won’t start doing that.”

Jensen had snickered and that had been that.

So now it’s like the zillionth time and he’s driving the shaver carefully around the familiar geography of Jensen’s face, the scents of cosmetics and pre-shave goo and _Jensen_ in his nose, the buzz-buzz-buzz of the little machine in his ears and vibrating through his hand, voices yelling somewhere in the lot. And he realises that he’s not only happy but humming about it. He could do this all day, he thinks lazily. The whole ritual sort of mellows him out.

After the shave, he gets to rub moisturiser into Jensen’s face, all the shortened stubbly hairs pricking and tingling against his fingertips, and Jensen still hasn’t opened his eyes, but he’s making these soft but distinctly encouraging noises that make Jared feel kind of warm inside, as if he’s done something praise-worthy, but also a little embarrassed.

“Looks good,” Trish announces, suddenly at his elbow.

Jensen’s staring at him, and for a moment Jared’s frozen there, his hands on his friend’s face.

The moment breaks.

“Thanks,” Jared tells Trish, turning to wipe his hands on a towel. “Guess I gotta go get prettied up now.”

Jensen opens his mouth to say something (possibly about how Jared’s mighty pretty already?), but then the trailer door bangs open, letting in a blast of cold Vancouver air and with it the smell of—

“My coffee!” Jensen cries, sounding more awake already. He barely looks at the PA who comes in, attention fully on the cup she hands him instead until he’s taken a blessed sip, whereupon he declares her a true goddess of the highest order and thanks her profusely. She leaves, blushing. Jensen inhales deeply of his ambrosial beverage and shudders as if in ecstasy.

“Think I’d better just leave the two of you alone,” Jared whispers, and tiptoes away to get his hair tangled with.

***END***


End file.
